


empty spaces

by sidetone



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24284599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidetone/pseuds/sidetone
Summary: Every day, Martin makes 4 cups of tea.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	empty spaces

There’s a heavy sigh that escapes Martin as he walks through the archives, four cups of tea in hand. He always ended up pouring four cups when he was on autopilot, even though the need for that many had long passed. The archives were quieter than they used to be as he tried his best not to spill any. There used to be so much chatter and even laughter, despite Jon’s insistence that they stay professional. It was nearly silent now. If Martin didn’t know any better, he would think he was alone. 

The first cup was set down on his own messy desk without much care. There were files everywhere, he couldn’t be bothered to clean it anymore. What was the point? He found he cared less and less about the state of the place. His home was in similar disarray these days. A little bit jumps out of the cup as he places it, staining some paper he was reading. He hardly noticed. He still had 3 more cups of tea to deliver.

The next cup took him to a desk that had been collecting dust for ages. He was surprised that they hadn’t moved it yet, or done something else with it, but he was grateful. It wouldn’t feel right to get rid of it, like they’d be getting rid of her memory. As if their memories of Sasha weren’t screwed up enough, being that she’d been replaced for so long… He expertly held the three cups in one hand as he used the other to wipe away some of the dust, before setting down one cup in the center, very carefully. Like it would break if it made a sound. Maybe it would. The quiet felt so heavy that breaking it seemed dangerous sometimes.

Just two cups left now, one in each hand. The next desk was one more recently emptied. The wound was still fresh, it still hurt. Some of his things were still here, and seeing them caused a pain in his chest. Tim was a good friend. One of his only friends, actually, really- The only people he ever really talked to were Tim, Sasha, and Jon, and now… Well, the numbers were dwindling, to say the least. He wished he could’ve said a proper goodbye, thanked him for all the good times they’d had, but this was the closest he was going to get now. He carefully set the tea down on his desk, the drink still hot. He knew he wasn’t there anymore, but he liked to imagine that he’d accept it with a wink and that charming smile of his. 

One cup left. He picked up his pace. He wanted to make sure it didn’t go cold. Jon’s desk looked like it always did, minus the archivist usually hunched over it. He wasn’t dead, Jon was still alive, but… In all honesty he didn’t think he would be coming back from that coma. It had been a long time. Even if he usually brushed off his offer of tea, he would still bring it to him. Even if he wasn’t here. He gently moved aside some of the papers he’d left out and placed the cup down. He might cry staring at that empty seat if he hadn’t done so so many times already. He never even got to tell Jon he… 

He turned around and left the room at that, his hands empty but he didn’t feel any lighter. No weight had been lifted. He didn’t know what happened to those cups that he left out, but they were always gone the next day. It was likely a janitor or something, but… He liked to pretend otherwise. He needed to pretend. To hang on to that sliver of a chance that he wasn’t truly alone, that his coworkers- his friends- were still here in some sense or another. He wasn’t sure he could go on otherwise- not that he was going to get very far like this. It wouldn’t come as a surprise to him if he joined them soon, in some way or another. 

Why would it matter either way, anyways?  
_It’s not like there was anyone left to mourn him._

But for now? He hung on by the smallest thread.  
He had four more cups of tea to make tomorrow, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> it's 2am so here's a short little drabble i wanted to do on martin grieving


End file.
